


Losing My Mind

by risingtides



Series: Be My Mistake [2]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: 2018-2019 NHL Season, Angst, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, M/M, New Jersey Devils, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 19:46:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17432399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/risingtides/pseuds/risingtides
Summary: My love's not simple, I'm fragile





	Losing My Mind

**Author's Note:**

> Idk where this came from buuuuut here it is.

Nico is dreading it as he laces his skates up, preparing to take the ice for warm-ups. He should be excited, have the normal adrenaline thrumming through his veins like he’s supposed to before a game, especially a conference game.

Not when it’s against the Philadelphia Flyers.

It should be more of a motivation, a game that seemed like a sure win, the team sitting at the bottom of the league and struggling to crawl their way out. What would be better than kicking them while they’re down?

Except he has to see Nolan again for the first time in over two months.

They beat them that game – a convincing 3-0 effort – that left him soaring. He wanted to feel bad, seeing the defeated expression on Nolan’s face, but he reveled in seeing the disappointment that Nico so often felt at his very hand.

But he still let Nolan come over to his apartment after they celebrated their own win, returning to his phone with several texts and missed calls from him. He was drunk, he figured, trying to numb the pain of yet another disappointing loss. He should have said no, told him to beat it, or just simply left him unanswered, but Nico always had a soft spot for him.

He came over that night and Nico let Nolan fuck him. It was a bad idea, don’t remind him, he heard enough about it from Taylor and Kyle.

After that night he showed some actual restraint. No texting him, not even on his bad days. No calls, no facetimes, no social media interaction. Nico thought it was working, his mind no longer consumed by Nolan, instead focusing on each upcoming game, his teammates, and having fun with them. He feels lighter than he has in a long time.

He just hoped he could show the same focus when he’s in the faceoff circle with his Achilles heel staring right back at him.

-

Nico keeps it professional during warm-ups, nods at Giroux and says hello to some of the younger guys he’s familiar with, but nothing major. He sees Palmieri eyeing him from the opposite side of the ice, by their own bench, as Nolan skates over to Nico for a few quick words before going back to his own end to shoot a few pucks at Hart. Kyle raises an eyebrow at him, but Nico insists that it’s nothing.

When the game starts, Nico is thinking about anything but Nolan.

It’s physical and he would expect nothing less. The first few minutes of the first period are uneventful, few shots taken with not too many scoring chances presenting themselves. Mostly just big hits and a few scrums by the net, but nothing major.

Nico watches from the bench as they set up in the offensive zone, Zacha throwing it back to Stafford at the point, before quickly passing it to the left of the goal for Damon to bury home in a one-timer over Hart’s left shoulder. The Prudential Center erupts as they tack on the first goal of the game. Severson comes down the line to bump fists.

“Let’s fucking go, boys!” he shouts as he moves down the line, firing Nico up even more. He glances up at the screen to watch the goal again and he grins before jumping out on the ice to prepare for the face-off. Luckily, it’s only Couturier across from him. He wins the faceoff and prepares to enter the offensive zone, thoughts of Nolan pushed to the back of his brain.

It helped being on the top line while Nolan sat on the fourth, which limited the time he had to see him on the ice. The first period consisted of face offs between Giroux, Konecny, and Coots, so his focus didn’t stray too far.

Being up one goal definitely wasn’t enough, Nico thought, when the buzzer sounds to signal the end of the period.

-

Nico finds himself bursting out of the penalty box at just the right moment, enough to catch Travis Sanheim off-guard as he goes to push the puck back into their defensive zone, but the only body there is Nico himself.

He feels quick as lightning, hustling up the ice, knows at least a body or two are on his trail, but all he sees is Carter Hart and a whole lot of net that is his for the taking. He fakes right just enough to open up the five-whole and he tucks it home with ease, sounding the horn. They’re up 2-0 now and all Nico can do is grin humbly at his teammates as they come to celebrate with him. Surrounding him in a quick hug before he goes down the line, he makes eye contact with Nolan, who happened to be on the ice at the time.

The disappointment is priceless. He thinks this might be the most power he’s ever had over Nolan.

He is, eventually, forced to face-off against him near the tail-end of the 2nd period. It’s the closest they’ve been all game and Nico feels his heart climbing into his throat as if it were a playoff game and they were down a goal, not a midseason conference game that they were winning convincingly.

“’Sup, Hisch,” Nolan greets coolly across the circle, wearing his signature side grin. He looked a little too pleased for someone who’s team was still, frankly, playing like shit. He’s also annoyed that he has the nerve to act friendly with him after all the bullshit he’s put him through, as if he has any room to act like just a friend.

All Nico does – as these thoughts fly through his head - is rolls his eyes, waiting for the ref to drop the puck, trying to convince himself that he wasn’t totally distracted by Nolan’s cherry red cheeks, but he loses the faceoff anyway.

He doesn’t have to deal with him much more until the 3rd period, where they score early and Nico tacks on another assist. They’re up 3-1 now and Nico is sure that they can take this one home and break their own losing streak.

When the two eventually end up in the circle again, Nico still doesn’t speak.

“What, c’mon, nothing from you, kid?” Nolan teases and Nico knows he doesn’t mean it in a vindictive manner but he can hear Palmieri start chirping behind him, trying to get Nolan to, quote, ‘Shut the fuck up’, which earns a quick scolding from the ref before he drops the puck. Nico loses the faceoff again and he curses himself for letting Nolan inch under his skin, even in his favorite place, surrounded by _his_ fans. It just wasn’t fair.

He doesn’t care when they end up winning the game 3-2, despite a last-ditch effort from Couturier who scores with just seconds remaining (a little late there, Nico thinks). He’s thrilled and, because it’s an afternoon game, they have all day to relax and celebrate the win before getting back to work.

Nico doesn’t get off the ice right away, instead being tracked down by none other than Nolan.

“Good game, bud,” he starts, clapping a hand down on his shoulder, “And great goal, that was incredible, proud of you.”

Nico hates that his entire chest fills with warmth, hearing Nolan’s deep voice praise him. He smiles softly up at him because, well, he’s quite bad at standing up for himself and can’t just push his hand away or tell him to get lost, after everything that’s happened like he knows he should.

“Thanks, Nolan. Sorry about that, though,” he refers to the loss, their ninth in ten games (yikes).

Nolan shrugs, sighing. “We’ll figure it out,” he pauses, glancing at his own teammates who are trickling off the ice, “I’ll text you later?”

Nico knows what that means: he’ll ask to come over or go out for a drink before they head back to Philadelphia, but it’s never a date, really. He only nods, smiling sheepishly at him before scurrying off the ice to the locker room, anxiety now filling his chest, the bravado he felt during the game gone. He’s thankful for the post-game interviews that distract him.

-

Nico is showered, has slapped cologne on the sides of his neck, and is dressed to casual in a pair of jeans and a crewneck, black Chucks finishing off the look. “Just drinks,” he tells himself in the mirror, running a hand through his damp hair.

They meet at a bar close to where the Flyers are staying, near the Prudential Center, one of the spots Nico knows they won’t get carded because, hey, he’s on the Devils and they just fucking won, who cares?

Nolan is already there waiting for him, sitting at a table playing on his phone. He’s wearing a baseball cap backwards and a plain black hoodie and Nico hates how good he looks no matter what he’s wearing.

“Hope I didn’t make you wait too long,” Nico jokes evenly as he slides into the seat across from him, nerves already creeping into his skin but trying to not let it sneak up into his voice.

Nolan looks up from his phone, startled, before putting it face down on the table with a smile. “Not at all, Neeks.” He assures him, staring at him just long enough for Nico to feel slightly uncomfortable under his gaze. The younger boy shifts in his seat, breaking their eye contact.

He’s thankful when the server comes over and asks for their drink orders. They both order beers – Nolan throws in an order of loaded nachos and Nico rolls his eyes with a soft chuckle - she glances at Nico, instantly recognizes him, and retreats to grab their drinks.

They sit in silence once she walks away until Nolan decides to break it.

“How’ve you been? Congrats on the win, by the way, again.” He adds with a subtle laugh.

Nico smiles shyly down at the table as his thoughts bounce against each other in his brain. _How am I really doing? Or how do you want me to be doing? Better when I don’t see you, frankly, even if my heart still explodes every time I see_ you.

Just when he thinks all his feelings have been pushed away, they come rushing back even when Nolan asks stupid questions.

“Thanks, Nols, sorry it had to be against your sorry ass,” he finds himself saying with more sass than he knew himself to have, which earns a genuine laugh from Nolan and his heart swells in his chest and he just _wished_ it wouldn’t.

_Yup, definitely a bad idea._

The server comes back with their drinks and he takes a large swig.

“Yeah, well, we suck right now, so,” he adds with a shrug, taking a sip of his own beer.

“But, uh,” he returns to the original question when Nolan gives him an expecting look, “I’ve been good. Doing well. Focusing on hockey, hanging with the guys, talking to my family when I can, you know.” He pauses, shrugging, “Focusing on myself, staying occupied.” _Trying not to think about you or how you fucked me up, you know, the usual_.

Except the dull hurt creeps into his voice and he hopes Nolan doesn’t notice but of course he does, he knows him so well by this point.

“Yeah, yeah, I understand.” Nolan responds quietly, pressing his lips together. They both take another sip of their drink, Nico taking a bit more time to sip on it so that the pint is already half empty.

Silence settles over them again, Nico pretending to be super interested in the song playing in the bar. He turns his head to briefly watch one of the several TV’s on the wall, one of which is playing highlights from their game earlier today.

“You still, uh, smoke?” Nolan interjects uncomfortably and it’s the first time he’s ever brought it up. _Because that’s a great point of conversation, Nolan, haven’t changed a bit, have you now?_ He thinks.

“Sometimes, yeah.” He’s nonchalant about it and watch Nolan’s face twist into a frown. He doesn’t feel bad.

“Neeks…” he starts, and he knows that he’s about to lecture him but the server is returning with the nachos, so he shuts up. She asks if Nico would like another beer and he nods.

“You know that shit’s so bad for you,” Nolan starts, shaking his head as he reaches for a chip.

“You suddenly care? That’s rich.” Nico snaps quietly, surprising them both. Nolan pauses, still wearing that frown.

“Wha- suddenly? Are you serious?” he shoves the chip in his mouth and Nico just watches him eat, finishing off the pint just as the server drops off another one for him, taking the empty glass, “I’ve always cared, but I never brought it up because it… wasn’t my place.”

“And suddenly it’s your place?”

Nolan winces at his harsh tone, even though his voice is quiet, “I’m worried about you.” He admits and Nico just stares at him.

“You’re a little late to be worried about me, Nolan.” He practically whispers, staring at a nick in the wooden table. He runs his finger over it. “I would’ve been more worried months ago when I was, you know, actually sad, depressed about things,” he takes another sip of beer to help calm him, “Sad about us, whatever this was. You didn’t reach out then. You left and then wanted to talk to me like nothing… happened. Like _nothing_ has ever happened.”

_Where the fuck did that come from? Like, way to go, Nico, but… shit_

An overwhelming wave of discomfort and sadness hits him and he finds himself standing up to leave, throwing a $20 bill and shaking his head, mumbling things about how this was a bad idea and he shouldn’t have come here. He’d been doing so well without him around and he thought he would be okay, but he’s not, and then he realizes he’s saying all these things aloud as Nolan is following him out the door into the night.

Then he feel’s something wet on his face and Nico realizes he’s crying and fuck, well, this really _was_ a shit idea. He can’t handle all the conflicting emotions.

“Nico, wait, please, don’t leave,” Nolan is begging and Nico thinks that might be the first time he’s begged for Nico to stay.

He finally stops walking and turns around to face Nolan. “Nolan, I’m sorry, I just, I can’t,” he starts, throwing his hands up like he can’t believe this is happening, “I thought I could do this, see you somewhere that wasn’t on the ice or in a fucking bedroom but I, I can’t,” It’s brisk outside, the New Jersey weather sucking the moisture from his skin as the wind whipped around them, sucking the air from Nico’s lungs and practically icing the tears on his face.

Nolan puts head in his hands, rubbing his face before looking back at Nico. “I thought we could at least be friends, Nico, I’m sorry,” and the word stings the centerman to his core, not when with everything he’s been put through he wants Nolan at the end of the day, “I shouldn’t have asked you to come out with me, I just thought that…”

“That what, Nolan?” he interjects incredulously, taking a few steps back towards Nolan just so he makes sure he can hear him over the wind blowing in their ears, “That I was over you? That I had just erased all the, the memories, from my head? That you could just wander back in and be so fucking nonchalant like you always are, always acting like you don’t give a fuck about anything?”

Nico knows he’s yelling by now, that people walking by are looking at them, maybe even taking photos because, he’s in Newark for Christ’s sake, but he doesn’t care.

“All of that shit _meant something_ to me, Nolan Patrick.” He seethes, fists balled up so tight this his knuckles are turning white. “And I let you walk all over me because that’s how I am, but not anymore.”

Nolan is at a loss for words. Nico thinks he sees tears in his eyes and he laughs bitterly, a new wave of confidence washing over him. _You’re so fucking bipolar, you know that, right? Christ, he really did make you crazy_.

“And you’re fucking crying? Oh, that’s rich. Real rich, Patrick. Might be the most emotion I’ve seen from you in fucking months.”

He guesses that struck a nerve in Nolan, which was the intended result, “Cut it the fuck out, Nico, it’s not my fault that you caught feelings for me.” And Nico knows he’s just throwing this back on him because he’s guilty, knows it’s his fault like he’s admitted before, but now they’re in public and people can hear them and he’s embarrassed.

“And you _knew it_ and _still chose_ to come around instead of cutting me off like any decent human being would!” Nico is definitely shouting now, “You said when you were ready, you would know, and it would be me. It would be me. That’s what you said,” Nico starts to calm down, more tears spilling over, “It would be me.” He breathes out, words twirled amongst the white air leaving his lips and dissipating into the night sky.

They’re both standing there, in the middle of Newark, on a cold January night. No one says anything.

“I can’t see you anymore, Nolan. Not until I get over this. Just…” he looks away, can’t bear to see his face anymore, “Just stay away. Go be with your team. Focus on that and I’ll keep focusing on me.”

Nolan feels like he can’t breathe but he finds himself nodding.

“I’m sorry,” and Nico can’t believe he’s apologizing as he backs away, turning his back on Nolan.

He doesn’t know where he’s walking to because he needs an Uber back to his place, but he figures anywhere is better than on the sidewalk outside of a bar.

He doesn’t look back, even when his heart is telling him he wants to.


End file.
